


Things That Only Happen To You At Work

by CaptainTsukiko



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Heartbreaking problems of Takkun's life, Humour, M/M, Romance, the late company's birthday shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7760104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTsukiko/pseuds/CaptainTsukiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The tragedies us innocent people have to go through because Asami Ryuichi doesn't have a goddamn Facebook account.”— Takaba Akihito, a victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Protect Yourself. Always.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's not even go into details, 'cause Asami's birthday is life. Don't miss it. Or you can learn the consequences from Takaba.

Monday's are pure, unrefined, _shit._

Takaba slowly buttons his clothes. Gives his own hair a ruffle because real men don't do combing. After retrieving his apartment keys, taps his shoes on the ground and leaves with a loud bang on the door. The landlady's gonna freak, he grimaces.

Oh, he starts, he doesn't have a landlady anymore.

It's a private apartment. For Asami Ryuichi.

(And him.)

.

"Hm?" The shoot manager speaks on the other end, "Ha? No way. What we can do is- no, I can't wait an hour for her to come! I have another shoot at that time... At Kabukicho." Takaba paces, one hand in his pockets trying to find his goddamn earphones.

"Let's do this, ask her to come this afternoon. Can you do that? Uh... Taxi!" He waved at a yellow cab, running towards it once it stops. "No, not you. Ah... okay. Tomorrow then." Click goes the line and Takaba ducks his head down and enters the cab, muttering his destination. Setting the phone in his pocket, grumbling as he massages his neck. Stupid people, stupid models, stupid schedules.. _._ Fuck his ass. Why did people have to sit so much. He shifts.

(Oh god it hurts, he purses his lips, Fuck Asami too while we're at it.)

Ping. His phone glows, and he has to shift achingly to get it. Speak of the devil... "What?" He groans.

_Don't question things too much. - AR_

That's makes him look up and around. The car turns a right, a left and into a completely unknown area. What the fuck-- "Hey, bro, we're supposed to go that way." That settles on him, "No, no, no, don't tell, me you're one of Asami's rookies! Oh my fucking god." He pushes at the door handle, and the cabbie-turned-henchman shoots a pitying look at him. "I have a goddamn shoot to go to!"

Takaba glares, promptly goes back to pushing. Damn these new techs. Damn him. Damn everything, in fact.

"Sir, if you'll please cooperate--"

He kicks.

.

_"I hate you."_

A nudge under the table. Clinks of cutlery. Expensive air freshener that smells like buses and good food (that makes Takaba enter Lala land of who-killed-me-and-sent-me-to-heaven but back to the point.) A birthday card and half eaten cake lie forgotten at the table.

Delicious, gold and addictive; he didn't even know if he's referring to a hotel or the person across from him.

"Point taken."

The nudged nudges back.

"I'm gonna kill you."

Asami doesn't glance up from his files on the table.

"Thank you for the vital information."

"No, I'm just gonna break your leg a little." Takaba smirks. "Just like I did to your lackey. On a scale of one to ten; how do you feel 'bout that?"

"Good, Bad..." Asami turns a page. "Absolutely not interested." Which directly translates as; absolutely Not giving a shit.

Takaba's face falls. "Fuck you. You could've just called me, you know. Or do you not have common fucking sense."

"You should get creative with your insults. They're starting to get boring."

Takaba fiddles with his fork, deciding wether to eat some more cake and get fatter or not eat it and stay slim. He sighs and skewers down the fork on his cake. Getting fatter it is then.

"...Happy birthday, you bastard."

Smirk.

"That is a good start."


	2. Be Wise. Seriously.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret to success in life is: doing your homework... um, research and listening to old people. Seems like Akihito here didn't know shit about that ish.

Perhaps sometimes, Takaba's forced to think, he too is need of moderation.

Moderation.

Cue gasp.

And no, even though, god forbid, he's not in a situation where he needs to crawl up a sewerage, or let's say _the wall of a fuckin' 20-story building,_ he can say that dangling with flimsy, thin rope between two buildings and the gaping road is definitely not worth it. (And trying to desperately get a good shot with a camera. His camera. Holy fucking shit.)

Or is it, he's a committed man. And it's not like a thousand yen is a bad pay for this sort of shit.

He feels the wind on the back of his neck, _Oh my god._

Okay, maybe not.

The grey silhouette of his target walks to the window. (Ignore the slither of thrill; You've got better things to do like: staying the fuck alive.) Takaba can't quickly slide towards it then, and instead opts to instead cut the rope he's already slid across. Which will throw him to the window. Close your eyes, breathe in and out, strengthen your grip.

'Cause your definitely gonna have the smack of your goddamn life.

"--fmmh!"

...And when that happens, try _not_ to scream like a little girl.

He blinks the blackness out of his eyes. And quickly gets a footing on the window ledge, wiping off the sweat on his palms, gets the camera ready and slowly peeling off the curtain and peering--

His phone vibrates. What a loser.

Takaba mumbles a curse at it and promptly decided that he should ignore it... Wait. What if it's from the manager? What if it's from the client saying he can just fuck the job and leave?

Sneer.

Sweet. He flips his phone.

"Yea?"

Takaba knows it as soon as the voice on the other side speaks. The immediate urge to howl like a cave guy is very strong.

"Stop it."

A good spy is smart, he chants, let karma do the work. "Stop what?" He whispers, "I'm hanging up." Or better yet, ten peppers in the bastard's soup.

"The one in that room is your employer's wife. Do you really want to end up boneless and homeless?"

...Maybe a box of pepper. The Ogon kind.

"Yeah and, ask me to hand over my life too while you're at it. Of course not! I'm already homeless you goon!" It's not in his preference he has to live with Asami and be his slave in the first place. And, what's the worst thing that ever happened when he listened to Asami? The bastard got his own way. And that was a bad reason as any. "And anyways, there's no way you don't have some evil plans. Let me do my _job!_ "

It's very hard to scream while whispering, Takaba the great looser discovered.

"...Have it your way then." And before he could scream, the line was cut. Fuckin jerk never letting people do their work, grumbling; he turned back to his task.

And all went to hell.

.

An hour later, Takaba sat in the living room with all the... grace. As much as one could with a broken nose, that is. A cup full of ice pressed to his swollen and bruised face. That psycho witch hit pretty hard, he winces.

"..."

Asami took, stole one of the larger piece of ice from Takaba's cup and dropped it in his whiskey.

"Have fun?"

Okay, count backwards from 50. 50, 49, 48... You can do this.

"I take it you didn't know about her trap, yes? She's one of my regular clients." Which was essentially: I know everything. I'm Buddha. "This is why one shouldn't take up infidelity cases from your employer. You should know better."

_How the fuck would I know she tricked boss into believing she was cheating on him to find out if he was spying on her or not? Fuck you._

"She did well; seeing as you got a taste of the same medicine."

"...Go to hell."

"I look forward to seeing you there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ogon (Golden) Pepper is a type of Japanese pepper that is supposedly 10 times hotter than normal red pepper. Who knows if that's right or not.


	3. 20 Things I Hate About You. Oh God.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Because every shitty rom-com ends this way.

A sound heartbeat in a buzzing crowd, overwhelmed by other's stories, just from anticipation.

 _What an idiot,_ he calls himself.

"Why does this always start this way? Me on my phone, I mean." Takaba hisses into the receiver. The Gooden view of Shinjuku Golden Gai's bars (or what he could see from trying not to get squashed by people) didn't make his heart beat any slower. "Asami, I know you're about spew some bullshit so let's just..." He evaded another pedestrian, trying to squeeze himself through the narrow streets.

Instead of the sultry-smug ring, like he expected, an intimidated voice spoke out: "Ah, um, Takaba-san... it seems like it's isn't a good time so I'll just--" Oh shit, Takaba realised with a start, this can't be happening right fucking now, oh my god. "No! Please! Sorry Tsukasa, I thought it was my landlord... yes. Yes. We can meet tonight. Okay, then. See you." Give me just one second to slap myself.

He sighed.

 _I need a massage._ Badly.

.

If one called birthday celebrations are happy occasions; they obviously haven't lived Takaba Akihito's life.

Especially if it's a week late birthday celebration. Fuck.

Ito Tsukasa is a familiar face for these problems. Thank god. They'd worked together, occasionally, in some of Momohara Ai-chan's shoots. And whilst getting coffee and trying to figure out how to get out of crappy conversations fast; had struck up an easy familiarisation. "I do a lot of things, really." Tsukasa admitted, a hand sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck, "I mean, one in just doesn't cut the rent, y'know." Takaba nodded in understanding.

He himself basically lived like a (glorified) slave at Asami's, but the chance of a bachelors' easy life was tough anyways in Takaba's expert experience. In that sense, Tsukasa and he had an... understanding (if one could call 'chatting' even that) and mutual pity. And when Tsukasa mentioned in passing that he knew a lot about home party arrangements, Takaba thought nothing of it.

Then, months to current time, Takaba was never so glad he was social (and taken those several cups of coffee enough to make conversation,) and started settling in with The Plan.

Takaba stared morosely at the rendezvous point. Who the fuck invites people to Golden Gai in the middle of goddamn August? This guy is loaded.. He stopped short of making a conclusion. Strange, much?

.

The Square:

Pristine green to brown bottles sit tightly packed to one side, the bar afforded to use several red and yellow lights, flooding everything in a bright candlelit glow. Even though Takaba is small (in height, stature and status - he thinks with a sinking feeling) the close proximity of each customer meant that frequent and unwelcome brush-ups were common; which ultimately results in making him look nervously around the room, away from his companion.

Unprofessional, he grimaces.

"Takaba-dono," Mikami Tetsuya speaks benevolently, "please choose anything." Seeing Takaba pipe up in protest, he added: "Ah, please, I insist. So, go ahead."

Takaba looks down reluctantly at the stack of alcohol, managing a small mumble, "...Alright, then. If you say so," and his heart lurches at the price. And after a glass of scotch (and just a glass, 'cos god knows he can't afford this shit) and a hearty but pointless chatter with Mikami, decidesto slowly revert back to business.

"So, yeah, Mikami-san, what kind of services can you give me?" Mikami grins.

"Please, call me Tetsuya." In an unpredictable move, he grabs one of Takaba's shoulders and gives an almost too-friendly pat, while Takaba blinks, suddenly feeling awkward and self-conscious. "I can offer a host of services. Basic to lavish decoration arrangements, and to say a full celebration hall with the most appropriate price." Unseen by Mikami, Takaba grimaces. He certainly knows what 'appropriate price' meant, and suddenly feels a wash of discouragement on the whole thing. Why not just make Asami dinner like always...

He stops.

(Those bruises and warnings from last week still burn over his back. Too sensitive for touch, too desensitised by painkillers for a saliva coated tongue.)

After all; this is the only thing you can do for him, Takaba straightens himself, suck it up and don't fuck it up.

At least.

"But, why the hurry?" Mikami asks. "We can talk relaxedly. It hasn't been that long. Besides, you've barely touched the snacks!" He pushes.

 _It's been 2 minutes and I already have a list of 20 things I hate about you._ Oh yes, please do tell me more about how I have to live my life. Oh god, it has been about an hour, is this guy stupid? "Ah... Okay." Takaba couldn't help but feel a slither of annoyance. He had work, and... What is with that overly interested stare the fucker keeps giving him?

"So how is your work?" Mikami leans forward. "I imagine it must be very hectic. Are you alright?"

"Um," Takaba scrambled for his phone; anything to escape that gaze, "yes. Of course. I love my job." His phone rings that exact moment and he almost releases a whoosh of relief. "Excuse me." Takaba escapes to the far end of the rom, almost tripping over a person in his haste.

He clutches the phone, he can still feel those eyes on him: "Hello?" He takes a chance, he hadn't looked at the caller ID. "Asami?"

"Can you find the Asyl?"

"Huh?"

Something crumples on the other side, maybe paper. "The Asyl. Abe-chan runs it." Takaba crinkles his nose, it is so fuckin... weird to hear Asami say "chan." Mayne he knows this person well?

"Wait.." He glances at the waiting Mikami, "I still don't get it!"

A short silence; then a long sigh.

"Are you dense?" Takaba flushes, "You do want to get out, right? Suoh is waiting outside."

.

"So..."

"So."

"You don't really know Abe-chan."

"No. Just like I've said twenty times before."

Takaba moves forward, on his elbows across the table. Startlingly close to gold irises, enough to give a cheeky grin. Dim light made like everything was made of gold.

"...How did you know I needed rescuing like a goddamn princess?"

"My dinner."

"Huh?"

"There wasn't anything to eat."

"..."

In the end he was made a slave again. Takaba didn't know wether to cry or laugh. But one thing he knew, he liked the Asyl's Algerian hip-hop and K-pop more than the fetish-wear coved walls of the Square's.

Especially if there was someone with gold eyes across from him.

.

How much of playing hard-to-get actually be considered nice? People don't like to be led on. And nor is full on romance in Takaba's situation could be deemed natural. Or safe. Or healthy. Or...

_(Gunshots, ships, red blood in the blue sea.)_

But some affections, he thought, could be fullfilled more subtly. 

Like home-cooked dinner.

Takaba ignores the flutter in chest as their hands brush.

 _What an idiot,_ he calls himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never knew making up Japanese names was this hard, goddamnit.
> 
> The Shinjuku Golden Gai is an actual place. Bars mentioned here are respectively the Square and the Asyl. The former attracts a lot of LGBT attraction, and the latter is run by a music junkie named 'Abe-chan.' AND they also are crazy expensive to afford. So have fun with that.

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah turns out that I didn't post the third chapter completely the first time and I'm an idiot.


End file.
